When the Past Returns
by Staceface627
Summary: Forgotten secrets of the past return and now threaten the future of a fifteen year old boy and his family. The CSI team must track him down before it is too late. This story is filled with twists that any crime/suspense fan will enjoy. R
1. A Lone Shoe

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters.**

* * *

Gil Grissom sat in a small diner in the downtown area. Things had been quiet for Gil and his team, no major investigations, no criminal masterminds to deal with, and the break was greatly appreciated. In fact, Gil felt like a new man! He sat in the diner, savoring his tuna on rye as if it was the first meal he had eaten in weeks. In a small way, it was. Normally, Gil was so on the go that he had no time to really enjoy meals; it was all eat and get back to it, no chance to thoroughly enjoy. But this time was different, and Gil was simply delighted. He sat in a booth next to a window, munching on the second half of his sandwich, peering out at the overcast sky and the light rain that was falling.

Suddenly, his cell phone began to ring. Gil reached into the front pocket of his jacket and took it out. He flipped it open and looked at the number. It was Catherine.

"Hey Catherine!" He answered. "You'll never guess where I am right now …"

"_Gil …"_

"I'm sitting in a small diner downtown. I have no idea what it's called, but they know how to make a good sandwich here."

"_Gil …"_

"How'd you like to help me set up lunch here with the rest of the crew, it'll be my treat."

"_Gil, listen! Do you remember Ryan Sullivan, the police chief we met earlier this summer?" _

Gil felt his heart sink immediately. Just by the tone in Catherine's voice he could tell that something was wrong.

"Please Cath; don't tell me he's dead."

"_No, but his fifteen year old son never made it home from school today."_

Gil's heart sank lower. Though all cases of kidnappings and murders were sad, the ones which involved children were simply heartbreaking. As the news sunk in, Gil took a deep breath, but said nothing.

"_I know you're enjoying a late lunch, but I really need you down here."_

"Where are you? I'm on my way."

Less than an hour later, Gil was walking beside a busy main road. He had been asked to park a block away from what was believed to be the crime scene for secrecies sake, but people nearby were getting a little suspicious on account of the increased amount of police vehicles driving around the block. The police were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but that was more than difficult given the task at hand.

Gil turned a corner and spotted Catherine walking towards him. Before she said anything, she handed over a photograph and gave him a chance to look at it. It was a school portrait. The boy had chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a friendly smile. Upon viewing the picture, Gil had to wonder why anyone would want to harm the boy.

"His name is Ryan Calder Sullivan Junior," Catherine began "more commonly known as RJ. He's in tenth grade – a good B average student, and according to his mother he walks home from school, taking the same route every day."

"What route?" Gil asked.

"We're walking it right now." She replied. "We're about at the halfway point between the school and the Sullivan's home."

* * *

_For fifteen year old RJ Sullivan the school day had been decent – having its ups and downs as always, but he was feeling good. He walked quickly down a puddle laden alleyway, looking down aimlessly at his black Chuck Taylor sneakers. He wore them every day._

_He was nearing the end of the alleyway. Even though his eyes were fixed downward, things started to look a little brighter. Just as he was about to step out of the alleyway and out into the open, he heard a loud engine approaching, and approaching quickly. He looked up and saw a white van as it came to a screeching halt in front of him. The side door was already beginning to slide open. RJ quickly turned around and started to run back into the alleyway. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but when he was halfway through the alleyway, he felt a pair of hands come down on his shoulders. He was thrown backwards, and before he could react felt a cold piece of metal crash into the back of his head, stunning him and dizzying him instantly._

_There was a man in front of him, and a man behind him, both wearing black. The man behind him had his arms wrapped around RJ's upper chest, and a cloth forcefully pressed against the boy's face. RJ struggled as he felt himself being pulled backwards, but was no match for the two men who had so easily subdued him. Within seconds he was hoisted up into the van. The door was closed, and all was dark._

* * *

Catherine and Gil had been walking for five minutes. She suddenly turned to the right, ducked under a strip of bright yellow police tape, and Gil followed. They were now in a dark alleyway where there were several police officers and a canine examining the area. Without a word, Catherine pointed forward. There, sitting in a puddle of water near the end of the alleyway was a lone shoe – a black Chuck Taylor.


	2. Contact

RJ's hands were cuffed behind his back moments after being dragged into the van. He sat on his knees with a shoulder pressed against one of the inside walls, his hazel eyes looking back and forth between his two captors. It was dark, thus making it hard to see, but RJ could still make out their faces. One had thick facial hair and appeared to be in his mid thirties. The other looked much younger – in his twenties perhaps, and he had a scar under his left eye.

The bearded man was holding a gun. RJ figured it was what he used to hit him back in the alley. The man examined RJ from top to bottom with a bitter and disgusted look on his face, but when the man looked down towards RJ's feet, his expression turned to purely hateful and clearly angry.

"Where's your other shoe?" The man asked through gritted teeth.

RJ said nothing. He only stared at the man, eyes wide and terrified to answer any questions. The man saw this and knew what had happened, and that the shoe was still somewhere out on the street. His lips curved upward in a furious look, and suddenly he swung the gun at RJ's face, hitting him on his right cheek bone. RJ let out a small shriek of pain and fell over onto his side, but the bearded man quickly grabbed him by the shirt and forced him to sit up again, slamming the boy's back against the wall.

At that moment, a window opened up in the front, allowing daylight to come through the windshield and into the back of the van. RJ squinted his eyes and tried to see who was sitting in the front. He could only see the side of one man's face, but couldn't make out any features as the man's face was shadowed between the light up front and the darkness in back.

"What's going on back there?" The man in the passenger seat asked.

"This little punk lost a shoe back on the street." The bearded man replied.

"Oh really? Well, don't rough him up too much just yet."

"Who are you?" RJ shouted.

But it was no use. The window was closed and all was dark once again.

* * *

Back in the lab, RJ's sneaker was sitting on a table. Raymond Langston was closely examining it when Gil and Catherine stopped by to check in.

"So, by chance did you find any evidence in or on this one sneaker?" Catherine asked as she handed a cup of coffee over to Raymond.

Raymond shot a glance over at the sneaker and took a sip of his beverage before responding. "There are no traces of blood, which is very reassuring given the circumstances." He began. Raymond then beckoned his comrades over to where he stood. "Do you see these streaks?" He asked, pointing towards the back of the sneaker.

Sure enough, there were two streaks. One was like a perfect curve running straight across the heel stripe. The other was more ragged, set off to the side of the heel stripe and down to the end of the black fabric. The streaks were light, unable to be seen from far away.

"What do they mean?" Gil asked curiously.

"Well," Raymond began "those streaks were not made from being scraped against the ground. No, they were made from the other sneaker …"

* * *

_Dazed and confused, RJ struggled to keep his footing as he was being dragged out of the alleyway. The two men with him were already feeling victorious – they thought they had already captured him without any major ruckus or too much of a struggle from the boy, but little did they know, RJ was already a step ahead of them. Just before the three were out of the alley, RJ planted his left foot firmly on the ground, which caused the man who was dragging him to falter. As this happened, RJ pushed his right foot back against the other until the sneaker came off._

_

* * *

_"… My best guess is that RJ kicked this sneaker off before he was dragged away." Raymond said. "Though, it doesn't tell us anything about where he was taken, who took him or why, it served as a marker to show us where he was."

Gil raised his eyebrows upon hearing Raymond's take. "Smart kid."

"Have either of you spoken with his parents?" Raymond asked.

"Yes," Catherine replied "So far we know that their twelve year old daughter is being taken to stay with relatives just out of state."

"And I'll be heading over to their home soon." Said Gil. "This obviously is not a random kidnapping, I mean; this is a police chief's son we're talking about here, so we're expecting contact from a culprit at any time, now. I'll be there to monitor it."

"Ah, I'll come with you." Raymond said, a hint of a smile creeping across his lips. "I've gotten all I can get out of this shoe – it's time to move on."

It was a long night spent at the Sullivan's home. Long and quiet. Ryan and his wife Bethany didn't say much unless they were asked a question – otherwise they were quiet, talking amongst themselves and trying to keep the other sane and comforted. Raymond and Gil sat at the kitchen table, Gil with his eyes closed, an elbow on the table and his head resting in the palm of his hand. It was past midnight, and still no call from anyone. Raymond leaned back in his chair and peered out of a nearby window, relieved to see that there was still no media around. So far, things were quiet on all fronts.

All of the call monitoring equipment was set up to the Sullivan's home phone, and all of the recording devices and head sets were spread out on the kitchen table, yet to be used. Ryan and Bethany were nearby in the living room, sitting on the couch. Bethany had managed to doze off while resting on her husband's chest. Ryan sat staring blankly at the blank TV screen, his thoughts racing as he wondered where RJ was and if he was alright. He never imagined anything like this would happen to him and his family …

It was now past one o'clock. Raymond was still awake at the kitchen table; Gil, Bethany, and now Ryan however, were fast asleep. The house was quiet and the atmosphere was tense as Raymond sat just waiting for a call. Suddenly, the silence in the house was broken. Ryan's cell phone, which was sitting on the kitchen counter, started to vibrate.

"Ryan!" Raymond called out as he shook Gil's shoulder to wake him.

Raymond, Gil, Ryan, and Bethany all charged towards the counter. Ryan picked up the cell phone and flipped it open. What he read on the screen caused his heart to skip a beat. It was RJ.

"Hello?" Ryan answered, his tone of voice frantic.

There was a short pause.

"_Dad?"_

"RJ! RJ, where are you?"

" … _I don't know."_

"Are you alright?"

" … _I don't know."_

Before Ryan could respond, there was a loud crash from the other line and then all went silent.

"RJ? RJ!" Ryan shouted. But there was no response.

He pulled his cell phone away from his ear and looked at the screen. The call was ended. Ryan closed his found, and angrily slammed it back down onto the counter. Bethany, Gil, and Raymond all flinched, and Bethany moved to place a hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Did he say anything?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"He doesn't know where he is, and he doesn't know if he's alright." Ryan replied.

"Hmm … That's strange." Said Gil. "Could you hear anything in the background?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"What about his tone of voice?" Gil asked. "Did RJ sound like he was hurt? Was there any strain in his voice? Did he stutter?"

"No, he didn't stutter, and he didn't sound like he was hurt. He was very quiet, though, like he was being cautious."

* * *

RJ's cell phone sat in a heap of broken pieces at his feet. He sat in a cold basement, unsure of what building or what part of town he was in, having been blindfolded until a man came down and forced him to talk to his father. RJ sat on the cold floor with his left hand cuffed to a pole. He stared up at the man in front of him, the man who had been sitting in the passenger seat of the van. He had a very thin face, short, dark hair, and recently trimmed facial hair. His eyes were brown and dark – he had a naturally eerie and terrifying look about him.

"Good boy." The man uttered.

As the man spoke, he noticed RJ's eyes move down to the floor, to his foot to be exact. The man raised an eyebrow at what he saw. RJ had his left foot pressed against the floor in an odd fashion, and the look in the boy's eyes was very focused. Perhaps he was afraid. Even the man had to admit that he would be afraid in that sort of situation, so for the time being he didn't worry about RJ's behavior. Instead, he turned around and walked away, going up the flight of metal stairs to the ground floor of the building, shutting the door behind him. Until RJ was certain the man was gone, his hazel eyes were fixed keenly on his sneaker.

The man had thrown his cell phone against the ground, shattering it into pieces. Though the phone was no longer good to use, something else was. The SIM card. While RJ was looking up at the man, he slowly inched his foot over to where the card was on the floor to cover it up. He was certain he had given something away when he looked to see if the card was hidden, but thankfully the man didn't seem to care.

As soon as RJ was positive that he was in the clear, he moved his foot, reached out his left hand and picked up the SIM card. He wasn't sure if he would be able to use it later, but nonetheless it was important to have, and so he pocketed it just in case.


	3. Taunting Tactics

"Are you positive that there is no one who would have any grudges or anything of the sort against you or your family?" Gil asked sternly.

"No." Ryan replied, still shaken from the brief conversation with his son.

Gil looked over at Bethany who had been fairly quiet all night."Beth?"

"N – No . . ." She stuttered.

"So RJ has made contact." Raymond began "What we don't know is whether or not he called on his own, or if he was forced."

"Forced?" Bethany asked.

"Yes ma'am, forced." Raymond replied. "It's a taunting tactic; we've seen it before. The captor will force the hostage to make a brief phone call that's too short to trace, but enough to let loved ones know that they are still alive and still in danger."

* * *

RJ had been sitting alone in the cold basement for several hours. It was dark, and all that could be seen was his broken cell phone on the floor, and the pole which he was handcuffed to. He sat with his back against the pole; eyes shut and mind racing so rapidly that he was beginning to develop a headache. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard the door creak open. The thin-faced man from before came down the stairway and knelt down in front of the boy.

"So," he began "how's your dad?"

"He's fine." RJ replied defensively, trying to conceal his fear. "Other than being worried sick about me."

"Still doing his police work?"

"How do you know my father?" RJ shouted, jerking forward as if to threaten the man.

In response, the thin-faced man simply scoffed. "You're so much like him."

RJ bit his lower lip. He was terrified of this man, and at the same time he was very angry. RJ had always been very fond of his father, and he hated to hear this man taunt him like this.

"When he and I first met, you were just a little baby. You're fifteen now, right? You were only two years old." He paused. "I understand you have a little sister now. How's she doing?" He asked in a seductive tone of voice, as if he was interested in the girl.

RJ jerked forward again. "Don't you dare mention my sister!" He barked.

The man scoffed, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment now that he had angered the boy. What was the point in taking a hostage if you couldn't toy around with them a little? With another scoff, he stood up and left the basement, loudly closing the door behind him.

Even though his parents and the CSI team had no idea of it just yet, it was now obvious to RJ that this man had a past with his father, and a score that he wanted to settle. Now furious, RJ started to take his frustration out on the handcuffs, pulling fiercely until he felt his wrist start to bruise. It was then an idea came to mind. Slowly but surely, and with much painful tugging, RJ was able to rise up onto his feet, pulling the end of the cuff around the pole up with him.

He looked around the room, but it was too dark to see much of anything. Glancing up towards the ceiling, he was almost positive that he saw a string hanging down. Was it a light switch? Taking a step forward, RJ stretched out his right arm as far as he could, trying to reach the string. The strain on his left wrist was almost unbearable, but RJ was determined. He reached and reached until finally, he was able to grab take hold of the string. When he pulled it down, a dim light filled the room.

Naturally, he was forced to squint against it at first. After several moments, his eyes adjusted to the new light and the boy was able to look around. The room appeared to be empty, except for a hot water heater in the far corner.

Painfully bending his left arm, RJ slowly turned around to see if there was anything behind him. There, not too far away, was a lone table. There was a white clothe draped over the table, and . . . Something else underneath. It looked like an autopsy table with a clothe still draped over a dead body.

A dead body.

Upon seeing this, RJ panicked and started to scream so loudly that it hurt his own ears. He turned away from the body and continued to scream and cry. He no longer cared how badly it hurt – he fought against his handcuffs trying to get away from the gruesome scene behind him, but his attempts were in vain.


	4. Seventy Two Hours

Ryan and Bethany sat huddled together on the sofa. Raymond sat nearby on a recliner, and Gil sat on the floor. Another swarm of police officers and detectives had just left the Sullivan's home, and they were watching television. It was now the evening after RJ's disappearance. Since the night before, they had heard nothing from RJ or his captor, and so gave the media permission to broadcast news of the kidnapping, in hopes that someone out there would see it and do the right thing.

"_There are no leads tonight in the armed robbery of a local electronics store. The store was held up at gunpoint on Monday by four men, all wearing black ski masks. The men made off with thousands of dollars worth of electronics and were believed to have escaped in a red van with no license plates._

_In breaking news tonight, the fifteen year old son of a local police Chief went missing yesterday afternoon. Ryan Sullivan Junior was reported missing two hours after he was due home from school. His parents and peers reportedly could not get in contact with him, and when officials were dispatched to search for the boy they found what was later confirmed to be one of his shoes in an alleyway. It's been over twenty-four hours since then and there are still no leads."_

A picture of RJ flashed on the screen with the word, "MISSING" underneath, along with a phone number.

"_If you have any information of Ryan Sullivan's whereabouts, please call officials at the number on your screen."_

* * *

Also watching the news report was the thin faced man. He watched intently, listening to each word as if they were as precious to him as wedding vows were to a bride. There was a very sinister grin on his face as he sat on an old, dusty couch, rubbing his hands together in a satisfied manner.

"How ironic …" He scoffed.

The man then turned around and looked at his friends who were standing nearby in the kitchen.

"Is the phone ready to be used?" He asked.

"Yes it is. Not even with all of that equipment will they be able to trace any of your calls." One of the other men replied.

"Good."

* * *

After seeing the brief news report, Raymond glanced over at Ryan and Bethany.

"Now that it's out there, we'll have to deal with a mess of curious news reporters from all over." He said. "I hope you know that."

Before they could respond, the house phone finally started to ring. The four of them leapt up from their seats and hurried over. Ryan picked up the phone, but didn't answer yet. He waited until both Gil and Raymond had their headsets on and were ready to listen, just in case it was RJ's kidnapper, which they all doubted considering that a news report had aired less than a minute ago.

Gil and Raymond threw on their headsets, and after a moment, gave Ryan a nod of approval.

"Hello?" He answered.

"_My oh my, Mr. Sullivan, your son looks just like you." _

"Who is this?" Ryan asked in a bitter tone of voice, trying his best not to scream into the phone.

"_You'll find that out soon enough. Until then, let me assure you that your son is alive."_

"What have you done with . . ."

"_. . . Don't get too comfortable – I am not a very patient person. With that said, know that I will not be putting up with him for long, just long enough to be repaid for everything I have lost thanks to you."_

"What do you want?"

"_I want you to pay, Mr. Sullivan. You work for the justice system, so you believe in fair payment, yes? You've cost me a lot of pain, and now I want you to pay it back."_

"Name your terms. I'll pay anything."

"_There are only two payments that I will accept: Twenty thousand dollars and my record cleared – past and present – or your son's death. I must warn you that I'm leaning towards the second. Money can never amount to the pain you've caused me."_

"Release my son, don't hurt him, and I will double that amount. Just bring RJ back to us, please, and you can have anything else you want!"

"_You have three days – seventy-two hours to collect the money. I will be calling you again at this time tomorrow night to check in and give you further instructions."_

There was a short pause.

"_Goodnight."_

Ryan grunted, and slammed the phone down onto the table. He was trying to think of who it could be – who he had hurt in the past, but not a soul came to mind. And now, it was his only son who was paying the price. Ryan felt sickened to his stomach just thinking that somewhere, RJ was being held for ransom. He looked up at Gil, who was taking notes, and Raymond, who was listening to the playback.

"Did you get that?" He asked.

"We did, loud and clear." Gil replied.

"But there's absolutely no background noise – nothing at all that could give us any clues of where this man is hiding." Raymond sighed, taking off the headset and setting it down on the table.

"He mentioned that I had hurt him in the past," Ryan began "I'm going down to the police station to review my complete record."

"I'll come with you." Raymond said. "Gil, would you stay here with Bethany, please?"

The two men were throwing on their jackets and heading towards the door, when suddenly the house phone started to ring again. All heads turned to the device on the table. After the third ring, Bethany grabbed it and looked at the caller ID.

"It's RJ!" she exclaimed.

Gil and Raymond rushed over to the table and threw on their headsets again, unsure of how RJ would be calling again after what happened the first time. Was it another taunt? Bethany handed the phone to Ryan, who answered it as soon as Gil and Raymond gave him another nod.

"Hello?"

. . . There was no response . . .

"Hello? RJ?"

. . . Nothing . . .

"Don't hang up!" Raymond shouted, moving over to sit in front of the computer which was hooked up to the phone.

Even though there was no response on the other end, as long as RJ's cell phone had no trap set on it, he would be able to trace the call. Ryan nodded his head and continued to talk into the phone, hoping for a response.

"Hello? RJ, are you there?"

Still, there was no response, In fact, Ryan couldn't hear a thing from the other end, but he stayed on, listening intently and saying a silent prayer for his son. Suddenly, he heard a rustling noise, as if the phone was being picked up.

"RJ? RJ, are you there?" Ryan asked again.

There was no verbal response, but he heard an almost identical sound to what he had heard the night before. A loud crash on the other end before a numbing silence, but this time the call was not disconnected.

"I got a trace!" Raymond shouted as he jumped up from his seat.

Gil jumped over and looked at the screen. RJ's cell phone was traced in a low reception area downtown, near the city limits border. A red dot flashed again and again on the screen with an address written above it.

"We need all available units there, right now!" He said. "Squads, canine units, everyone we can get right now!"


	5. Relocating

With lights flickering and sirens blaring, police vehicles circled the area while squads and canine units closed in on the building where RJ's cell phone had been traced. Leading the units in were Raymond, Gil, and Ryan. Catherine had rushed over to stay with Bethany upon hearing the developments, and the women were waiting back at the Sullivan house to wait for more news.

They arrived at the appropriate building. They could see that the lights were on inside, which gave them hope that their suspects were still inside. Ryan and the police wasted no time – they broke into the building with Gil and Raymond following close behind, all with guns drawn. They ran through one room, and another, and another . . . But there was no one in sight. In fact, the entire first and second floors were deserted.

Ready for anything, the men charged into the building with Ryan in the lead, and the two CSI's behind him . . . But again, there was no one. In the room was a pair of handcuffs – one side still latched around a pole, a collapsed table, and thousands of dollars worth of electronics scattered on the floor.

"They're gone . . ." Ryan uttered in despair, his eyes fixed down on the pair of handcuffs.

Surely RJ had been there recently, but where was he now?

* * *

RJ fought to keep himself from crashing into the walls of the van. The man was angry, and expression his anger by driving wildly, intentionally trying to hurt the boy and scold him for what he had done.

"Your little stunt just cut your life in half!" He shouted, loud enough for the boy to hear him.

The van was headed further downtown, to the more deserted and more "battered up" part of the area, where the man had another hideout. He made a sharp turn, causing the tires to screech and sending RJ barreling towards the wall opposite. As soon as he heard his body come in contact with the steel wall, he made another sharp turn sending him back into the other. RJ grunted and shrieked with each impact, knowing that at any moment he could be severely injured.

"You can't outsmart me!" The man screamed.

Suddenly, he felt the van begin to speed up. The speedometer passed the forty MPH mark and then the fifty, nearing the sixty when all of a sudden the man slammed on the brakes. RJ flew forward. He stretched out his arms to catch himself, but the force was too much. He hit the wall with a loud crash and felt one of the bones in his right wrist crack instantly on impact. He screamed, feeling the sensation of heat and excruciating pain travel up from his fingertips all the way to his shoulder. Pulling his broken arm close to his chest, he curled up into a lose fetal position, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily, trying his best to keep himself from screaming again. His right hand was bent sideways and he couldn't move it . . . He couldn't even move his fingers due to the pain being so intense.

* * *

_Back in the first hideout, RJ had been staring at the table for the longest time, his curiosity escalating with each passing moment. Who was the man who kidnapped him, and who was his last victim? It seemed obvious that whoever it was, their body was now lying straight ahead, but RJ wondered if they had a face, if they had a name. Could it have been someone he knew? Whether or not that was the case, RJ was heartbroken. The body on the table had loved ones – loved ones who right at that moment were probably grieving for their friend, their brother or sister, their son or daughter, and so on._

_He couldn't take it anymore. RJ had to see who it was. He scooted his way closer to the table until the handcuff wouldn't allow him to go any further. His feet could reach the bottom of the table, which was exactly what he was hoping for. Taking several long, deep breaths, RJ set up his left foot in the right position and prepared to see the face of the victim. _

_He kicked his leg. His foot crashed into one of the corners of the table so forcefully that the conjoined legs buckled. RJ quickly moved his leg out of the way to avoid being crushed by the table and the body on top, but to his surprise, a dead body was far from what spilled out onto the floor. _

_Portable music players, laptop computers, and many other electronic devices scattered this way and that as the table came crashing down. RJ's draw dropped, and instantly he felt a wave of relief overtake him. The thin-faced man's last victim was not a person . . . But an electronics store. _

* * *

"I don't understand this!" Ryan barked, his frustration climbing to new levels as he stood in the empty basement.

Gil wandered over to the far corner, which was quite dark even with the light. He crouched down and picked up a cell phone. The screen read, "Calling: Home" Ryan was watching, eyes wide and mind racing.

"That's not RJ's phone . . . This is." He said, looking down at the heap of broken parts and pieces at his feet.

Gil ended the call on the phone he held and handed it over to Ryan, who then flipped through the contacts. Nigel Harris, Kasey Montgomery, Mom . . . They were all RJ's contacts. It just didn't make sense . . . Or did it? Raymond was inspecting the stolen electronics, happy to know that they were at least making progress for the store that was robbed. Whoever was the culprit there was also who had taken RJ. Ray peered inside of an empty box and pieced together what happened.

* * *

_Shortly after knocking the table down, RJ spotted a box with a picture of a cell phone on it. The phone was not the same as his was, but it was manufactured by the same company. Would the phone accept his SIM card? He had to try. Stretching as much as he possibly could, RJ pulled the box over to himself and hastily opened it. He then unwrapped the phone itself and its battery. He then took his old SIM card out of his pocket and tried to put it in the stolen phone. It fit! He quickly put the battery inside, turned the phone on, and dialed his home phone number. He waited for several long seconds to make sure that the coast was clear. After hearing no sign of any of his captors approaching, he hit the call button and waited._

_He heard his father pick up and was just about to respond, when suddenly the basement door flew open. It was the thin-faced man who was eager to taunt his hostage some more. But when he saw that the table where he kept his stash of stolen electronics knocked down, and one of the stolen cell phones in RJ's grasp, his anger boiled over. The man charged towards the boy, snatched the phone from him and looked at the screen. _

_His face suddenly scrunched up in an expression of pure disgust and hatred. He looked down at the boy who looked utterly terrified now. He tossed the phone towards the end of the room, assuming that it would smash into pieces as the first phone had . . . But it didn't._

_

* * *

_

"You must be joking . . ." Gil uttered after hearing Raymond explain.

"It makes sense!" Ray exclaimed, in an excited tone of voice. "Listen, he left us a clue back on the street – his sneaker, his sneaker was the clue! He did it again knowing that we would be able to trace the call, and hoping that we would find him here."

"But we didn't! We were too late!" Ryan snapped.

Ryan placed his hands over his face and wandered off to the side of the room, feeling as though he would burst with frustration at any given moment. Just then, Gil's own cell phone started to ring. It was Catherine again. Why would she be calling?

"Hello?" He answered.

"_Gil, you need to get back to the Sullivan's home right now." _

Catherine hung up.

Ryan, Gil, and Raymond were quick to respond to Catherine's call. The urgency and stern tone in her voice was enough to make Gil break out into a nervous sweat. Something was wrong. With police units waiting outside of the house, the men charged in and found Bethany and Catherine in the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Raymond asked.

"Put on the headsets." Catherine replied.

So they did. Gil and Ray rushed over to the table and put on the headsets. What they heard next was more than terrifying.

"_You were certain you had caught me, weren't you, Ryan?! Well even though you son seems to have several tricks up his own sleeve, I'm still one step ahead! His little stunt just cut his deadline – you've got twenty-four hours to get me my money and clear my record, or his life is over!"_

Their hearts sank as they listened to the message. Suddenly, they realized that what they thought would turn out to be a great advantage for them, was everything but. Doubt set in as they realized that their chances of bringing RJ back alive were now very, very slim.


End file.
